Chapter 1815 - 1815: Momem Thyrgga

'Of course, he knows my name,' thought the Hybrid.

What was standing before him was not the image Skullius had pictured. All the reverence, the legendary subtext – everything he'd heard from anyone who knew even the mildest concept related to the Sovereign General – had sculpted a completely different visage.

The man standing before him, garbed in a flat-looking set of ceremonial robes with long, combed plumes of grey hair falling from his head to meet the even longer tufts of grey growing from his face, didn't look like a General at all. He looked like someone past their prime, even though he sported a vibrant glow to his wrinkled skin, which was ripe with crevices. His small, brown eyes were kind, but sharp, complementing his fatherly smile. Thyrgga might have never seen a single minute of war in his long, long life.

Perhaps the only thing that teased – even a tiny bit – that Momem was a veteran of war was the intricate golden band around his temple. Skullius could clearly see the detailed illustration of seven figures grafted onto it, each of them brandishing a different weapon.

How could he not have seen the band clearly? Thyrgga was so close, extending his hand. Skullius shook it and silently marveled. There wasn't much of a disparity between him and Thyrgga in size, but his hand was large and heavy.

"I have been quite eager to meet you. Unfortunately, there were many pressing matters – pressing visitors," said the Sovereign General as he took back his hand. "Were you at all fascinated by Thornke – the attention-starved braggart? Thought he'd never leave."

Skullius imagined Thornke was the giant from just now.

"Not particularly," he said.

Thyrgga chuckled and gestured towards one of the many large chairs around the table. Slowly, Skullius approached one to sit, but stopped in his tracks.

Gylliard.

Thyrgga commanded so much of Skullius' attention that he hadn't noticed the Grand General seated on a chair far removed from the table. Gylliard had been here all along.

He was just as Skullius remembered from their last meeting: blonde, blessed with a holy glow, eyes sealed. If there was one difference the Hybrid could have noted, it would have been that Gylliard's confident smile was gone. There were the slightest creases of tension on his handsome face. Something was distracting him.

'What… is that?' thought Skullius, straining to see. Something was wobbling beside Gylliard. A faint – very faint – distortion in the air, as though light couldn't probably bounce off the space there.

Thyrgga walked to the other end of the table directly opposite Skullius but didn't sit down. The Hybrid quickly turned his attention back to him and took a seat.

"My dear Gyll has taken a particular liking to you. Didn't really surprise me, but well…"

Only when the Sovereign General said this did Gylliard's head turn in Skullius' direction, but he said nothing; he didn't even acknowledge the Hybrid's presence. The distortion stole him wholly.

Chuckling again, Thyrgga pressed a finger on the table, and a peculiar black flask sort of jumped up out of the hardwood along with two large wine glasses. Slowly, he poured some liquid that smelled like a mix of mint, honey, and vinegar into both glasses and pushed one towards Skullius.

Before taking it, Skullius asked:

"Why were you eager to meet with me?"

Thyrgga cocked his head back, surprised.

"Your earnestness, of course. I don't recall anyone ever having the gall to foment a Retucent as a means to break into a Breaking Chasm," he said. "Forgive me if this sounds pretentious, but I can think of no other reason you'd go to that trouble… unless it was to see me."

He grabbed his glass and took an elegant sip.

Skullius narrowed his eyes.

'Liar,' he thought.

"Earnestness, you call it?"

"What would be a more fitting word for it? I responded in earnest, too. Had I not, that Retucent would have obliterated the Quadrosphere before Gyll could make it there."

Skullius drew a breath, swallowing that fact. He reached for the wineglass, held it up, and sniffed it.

Thyrgga looked at him curiously. "I'm not so lazy that I would use poison to kill my enemies, deferring blame to weapons that aren't my own hands. Besides, you are not my enemy. Please, drink."

Skullius considered for a second more and drank. The deep, mature flavor, almost too strong for his taste, caught him immediately. He liked it.

"You might be the only earnest one among all the guests here in the Monosphere, Skullius," said Thyrgga, his warm smile growing brighter. "Of course, that requires testing. I would know what you make of me – what I can do for you."

Skullius drank some more. The music droning behind him kept his senses sharp and sharper still.

He couldn't smother a thought that kept biting at him.

…they will know you made contact with me and conclude that I was alive after all, Paliothese had said. What did Thyrgga make of that? He certainly knew. Was it wiser to ensure that the conversation didn't spill to Skullius' reason for coming here just yet?

Only when the Hybrid had downed everything in his glass did he answer.

"I would ask… why it should be you – the Radicals and the Aspire to Divine – who should take the place of the Primeval Deities. That is what you're aiming for, isn't it?"

Gylliard's head turned to the Hybrid, only to turn back.

Thyrgga pulled a chair from the table and sat down. He and the Hybrid were locking eyes, and the latter could see no semblance of faltering or conflict within the Sovereign General's small eyes.

"Ah, I see it," said Momem, and he laughed in a proud sort of way. His eyes glistened, suddenly softer. "I'm fond of that conclusion you've come to, at least when it's expressed rationally. You are more mature in the understanding of Direction than I would have thought."

He raised a trembling hand and waved twice. The hymn playing around him grew even deeper, but quieter. Thyrgga closed his eyes to savor it, and his hand stopped its quivering.

Skullius was rather confused. His senses sharpened even more as the voices of men pitched lower.

"Mybn. The first world I ever created, molded from my Amras diluted into Genuine Divine energy. From it still, I also formed the Theans, men with profound wisdom who made the most optimal decisions they could. And what was optimal? Whatever is best for Mybn, they concluded, even if it burdens us Theans. The Mybn Khal, they called the idea. We will survive as long as Mybn Khal survives." He drank. "I was dumbfounded, yet proud. That conclusion defeated every reason behind why I made Mybn – every reason to become a Deity – but I allowed it. How far would the Theans keep it up? They must have mistaken my silence for affirmation."

Just for a moment, Gylliard turned to the Sovereign General before his attention was drawn back to the distortion.

Skullius noticed this too, but was too engrossed in Thyrgga's account. The hymn forced him to be.

"I was young – eager. My Deific foresight told me of a rebellion against the established wisdom in a century. Finally. The Theans had deviated from their course. Mybn Theo. A new wisdom. Mybn may survive, but it breeds limp Theans – weak men used to easy provision. Raise the Theans into strong men. Mybn will provide for that to its dying breath."

He poured another glass full for the Hybrid. Skullius gladly indulged without a word.

"I was intrigued. It was no mystery to me which wisdom would win in the short run, even without my foresight. It happened as I expected. The complacent Theans devoted to Mybn's flourishing fell to the motivated, fiery rebels. Many innocents were decimated in the crossfire. Too many." His eyes remained bright, as though he were telling a tale about sunshine. "Still, I waited, determined to see the end of it. But a snag arose."

Thyrgga leaned back in his chair.

"Mybn Theo was no wisdom at all. It was a ruse created by a suspicious rebel, a Thean I hardly recognized, much less remembered creating. How it happened, I could never tell – not even today. But that was the first time my eyes were set upon a master of darkness and light. An insurgent far removed from the good of Mybn."

…!

Skullius frowned.

Another Fulgardt.

"What did you do with him?" he asked.

"I smote him."

Skullius placed his glass on the table, half full. "And that was the end of the rebellion?"

"Would killing you extinguish the loyalty you've built within your subordinates, Skullius?"

"I am not a Wanderer's shill," he said sharply.

"I didn't say you were. But then again, you gladly took on Fulgardt's ambitions, did you not?"

Skullius reeled inwardly.

'He saw that too?'

"Doesn't make him and me the same," he said.

"Except, you've become a bane and a renegade for gods ever since inheriting his powers, have you not? Even for gods who transcend all planes?"

Skullius' fingers went cold. That line could have meant a lot of things, but he desperately hoped it didn't mean what he thought it meant.

There was no way Thyrgga could have known that the Primevals had sent him, right?

That wouldn't make sense. What didn't Thyrgga know?

Skullius composed himself. The hymn ringing around him made him sensitive and jittery.

"Is that the impression you got from that Thean you killed? That the Wanderer's shills are all alike? That men who defeat them are doomed to be just like them? That they create impossible legacies that thrive even after death?" he said, numbing himself with Maximum Frost (one of his Parlous Natures) from the inside. "And how is all this the answer to my question about your desire to overthrow the Primevals, Sovereign General?"

Thyrgga crossed his fingers on the table. Still, he gave a tender smile.

"Neither we nor the Primevals are righteous or evil. You've grown to understand that much. But it seems you lack the understanding of what that means for you, someone who possesses the wills of two powers far removed from the natural order."

"What?" Skullius frowned.

Thyrgga chuckled and took a deep breath.

…Then his smile dimmed. To Skullius, that simple change made him feel dizzy, as though his instincts were screaming.

"I have nothing to hide. But you do," said the Sovereign General. "Why did you come to see me?"

Gylliard turned their way. He must have sensed the atmosphere change.

There was no avoiding it now.

At once, Skullius knew Thyrgga had read him completely. His attempt at veering away from this very question… completely failed. What would he say was his intent? If Thyrgga already knew about the real reason why he was here, then…

"YOU!"

A blaring scream.

It happened so fast.

By the time Gylliard turned back to the distortion, someone had already slipped out of it and past him, hurtling towards Thyrgga.

The Sovereign General slowly panned.

"YOU'VE GOT SOME NERVE, THYRGGA!!!" It was a woman with fiery hair, her fury so palpable it threatened to boil the air. An obnoxious sort of fury.

She threw her fist into Thyrgga's face, sending him up from his seat and staggering.